


Ways of Holding On

by Luka



Series: Iceman [5]
Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-29
Updated: 2008-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Stephen has to make a decision about his relationship with Ryan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ways of Holding On

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

| 

  
[fiction](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/fiction), [gran](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/gran), [iceman](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/iceman), [ryan](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/ryan), [series](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/series), [slash](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/slash), [stephen](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/stephen)  
  
  
---|---  
  
  
Title: Ways of Holding On  
Author: Luka  
Characters: Stephen Hart, Tom Ryan,  
Rating: 18  
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm just playing and won't make a penny out of them. I'll put them back when I'm finished, honest!  
Spoilers: Series 1  
Pairing: Stephen/Ryan  
Summary:  Stephen has to make a decision about his relationship with Ryan.  
A/N: The fifth story in the Iceman series. The previous ones are linked under the cut. Thanks to [](http://fredbassett.livejournal.com/profile)[**fredbassett**](http://fredbassett.livejournal.com/) for beating it into shape with the beta!

[](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/2008.html#cutid1)

  
[A Fire is Burning](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/2008.html#cutid1)   
[We Could Leave Right Now](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/4534.html#cutid1)   
[This Year Next Year](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/4748.html#cutid1)   
[All That Way for This](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/5207.html#cutid1)

  
Taking Stephen from behind was the best thing ever. It meant Ryan could stare, transfixed, at those perfect tight buttocks and play with the even tighter hole. Sometimes he'd open it up with his tongue, other times with gel-laden fingers. Best of all, though, was when his thick cock started to disappear into the tiny opening, stretching it wide. Stephen was so responsive. He'd moan, whimper, cry out, all the while writhing uncontrollably on the end of Ryan's prick. Watching the Iceman lose his cool turned Ryan on big-time.

The fuck that night was sensational. Ryan reckoned the threat of being trapped in the past didn't half concentrate your mind. And as they cuddled comfortably afterwards, Stephen whispered: "You scared the shit out of me."

"Got to admit I was worried for a bit. And I don't know how you put up with Cutter. It's all about him all the fucking time." Ryan combed his fingers through Stephen's spiky hair.

"You get used to him after a while."

"Not if I can help it. I'd rather have been stuck the wrong side of a fucking anomaly with Geek Boy."

"Connor's got a good heart. He'll be fine when he grows up."

"I'll take your word for that. Is Cutter ever going to grow up, though?"

"Doubt it."

"D'you think he _is_ in the closet?"

Stephen shook his head. "No. He's just someone with a really fucked-up private life who has no idea how to form relationships with men or women. And Cutter likes to be the centre of his own world. I've been his loyal and faithful servant for so long that it hit him hard when I got a life of my own."

"Speaking of private lives, I had this really odd conversation with Sadie. She reckons Jon's gay."

"Jon Lyle? No way. He doesn't set my gaydar off."

"That's because you haven't got one."

"I have so!"

"You haven't. I virtually had to strip naked in front of you to get your attention."

"That's an exaggeration!"

"Not much of one."

"So what proof has she got?"

"This is Sadie we're talking about. She doesn't do proof. She does intuition."

"Does Jon have a girlfriend?"

"Not at the moment. At one point it was like the cheese counter in Tesco. Take a ticket and wait your turn …"

"Will your lads care?"

"Nope. They don't give a damn about you and me."

"How do they know?"

Ryan noticed the sudden tension in Stephen's body. "They've been expensively trained at taxpayers' expense to notice things. And I'd have been a bit bloody worried if they hadn't noticed. I'm sure there are plenty of smutty comments being made, but they won't say anything to our faces and it won't affect how we get treated. All they care about is whether we can do our jobs or not."

Stephen pulled away from him and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

Ryan propped himself on one arm. "What's wrong?"

"I dunno. Nothing, I suppose."

"You don't like people knowing you're gay, or you don't want them to know we're an item?"

"Neither … I … Sorry, I dunno. Too much crap today doing my head in . . . Come here . . ."

***  


"What're you doing this weekend?" Ryan moved his bishop and tried not to look smug. One more move and that should be checkmate.

Stephen looked up from the chess set. "Nothing, so far as I know. Why?"

"I'm going to my Gran's. She'd like to meet you."

"Me?" Stephen stared at him, his endearing worry lines getting more pronounced.

"Yep."

"Does she know …?"

"Of course. That's why she wants to meet you."

"Oh." Stephen thought about this for a moment or so. "Thank you. I'd like to meet her."

***  


Ryan had never said much about his family, so Stephen was astounded when they drove up a long gravel drive to a solid-looking Georgian house. Ryan had never mentioned any family, and Stephen had assumed he'd escaped a working-class background to join the army. This place, though, oozed money. He wasn't entirely sure where they were, aside from the edge of a Wiltshire village. He'd seen signs to Salisbury and Marlborough on the main road.

"So what do I need to know about your family?"

"Not much to say. My father was a solider and died during the Falklands. The house has been in his family for years. My grandfather was in the army as well. My mother's a typical regiment wife who's hardly had to do anything for herself. All she does now is play a lot of golf and drink even more gin. Oh shit, watch out …"

"Hello, Thomas. Rather a shock to hear from your grandmother that you're a pillow-biter. Is this your toyboy? He's very pretty." She was elegantly-dressed, stick-thin, weather beaten and looked about 80, although Stephen assumed she couldn't be much more than 60.

"Mother, please. This is Stephen."

She offered Stephen the most cursory of handshakes. "You don't look like a soldier."

"I'm not. I'm a scientist."

"Brains instead of brawn, I hope. Anyway, can't stop. Your grandmother's expecting you." And she walked off.

Ryan sighed. "Sorry about that. If it's any consolation, you escaped lightly. And that's the longest conversation I've had with my mother for about 15 years."

"Now I see why you said you'd dump me on the spot if I ever called you Thomas."

"Yep." Ryan had seemed quite touched when Stephen had asked if he could call him Tom – but he'd issued the rider in the next sentence. And Stephen had been pretty sure he wasn't joking.

Ryan's grandmother had a single-storey annexe on the side of the main house. She looked like everyone's favourite granny, with her softly curling grey hair and sweet apple-cheeked face. But her eyes missed nothing.

"Come on in, boys, and I'll put the kettle on. Journey OK?"

Ryan leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Hello, Gran. It was fine. Got these for you." They'd stopped on the way down to buy a crate of Guinness, a large box of Thorntons chocolates and a big packet of cashew nuts.

"Bless you, darling. Now, this must be Stephen."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs Ryan." He was slightly taken aback when she kissed him on the cheek. She smelled of a light, floral perfume.

"And you, darling. On a scale of one to ten, how charmless was your mother, Tom?"

"About six and a half."

"Lucky escape."

"That's what I said. But there's still time."

"All she's done since she knew you were both coming up has been to moan to Trudy about what she calls your lifestyle choice."

"My sister," said Ryan to Stephen. "She lives in Germany so gets all the grief over the phone." He turned back to his grandmother. "What did Tru say?"

"Her exact words were 'welcome to the 21st century, mother, and get over it.'"

Ryan grinned. "Tru's a star. And she's got a tribe of sprogs, so mother can't play the lack of grandchildren card."

"Won't stop her complaining and playing the martyr, though. Now, let's have a cup of tea. And I've made a fruitcake. There's one for you to take home, as well. I thought we'd eat about 7pm, if that suits you lads."

***  


Ryan lifted the computer out of its box and carefully placed it on the desk in the corner of the living room. "Right, Gran, this is where I introduce you to my lovely assistant, who's going to set it up for you and get you online. Having a tame scientist on call has its uses …"

"You don't mind do you, darling?"

Stephen shook his head. "Not at all, Mrs Ryan."

"Thank you so much. Now, Tom, I wonder if you'd get some boxes down off the top of the wardrobe for me while Stephen's busy with the computer."

"Of course. And if there are any other odd jobs you want us to do …"

"Nothing else, darling. It's just nice to have you here for a while."

It had been his grandmother who'd brought him up and who'd patched up his scraped knees, listened to his problems and helped him with his homework. And she'd been in the front row, glowing with pride, when he passed out of Sandhurst. His mother had 'forgotten' to attend. He'd spent ages trying to persuade his grandmother to move nearer to him, but she'd said briskly that she'd been born in that house and was proposing to die there, although not for the time being.

Ryan pulled the boxes down and sat on the bed as his grandmother sorted through them. Every time he visited, she gave him more family odds and ends to take away. He knew she did the same with Trudy, and that it was a ploy to stop his mother getting her hands on them and selling them for her gin fund. Last time it had been his father's and grandfather's medals. He'd been touched by this and had said so.

She'd simply said: "You should have had them years ago, but I was being sentimental about them. Take them."

This time she passed him a small, old-fashioned jewellery box. Inside it were two gold rings, both plain wedding bands.

"They're your father's and your grandfather's. I was saving them for you until you met someone special. And now you've done that, it's time you took them."

"Oh Gran …"

"He's gorgeous, Tom. Where did you meet him?"

"A Home Office op. He's a scientist and works in a university."

She nodded, well-trained enough not to ask more. "How old is he?"

"28."

"Seven years isn't so much. That was the age gap between your grandfather and I. Have you met his family?"

"He never mentions them."

"Ask him to marry you, or whatever it's called."

"Civil partnership. We haven't been together that long and we haven't talked about it yet."

"Don't leave it too long. I can see he's special. And I fancy buying a new hat!"

***  


Stephen had the computer up and running in well under an hour, and had even got commonsense out of the internet service provider, which had to be some sort of first. He talked Gran through using email and they sent messages to Trudy and to Gran's sister in Canada.

"You are good, darling. Would you mind going through it all again with me tomorrow?"

"Not at all. And perhaps by then you'll have had some emails back."

"I hope so. Now, let's dish up the dinner. I hope you like lasagne, Stephen. It's Tom's favourite, and I always make it when he comes to stay."

"I love it."

"Good. Now you sit over there. Help yourself to bread and butter."

The meal was delicious, and Gran watched them, smiling, as they both devoured it and had seconds, followed by apple pie and cream. Stephen knew they'd be running this off the next day. Just so long as the sadistic sod next to him didn't suggest press-ups …

Stephen cleared the table while Ryan ran a bowl of water and started the washing-up. Radio 4 was on low in the background, the house was warm and smelled of lavender and nice food, and he was well-fed and for the first time in months felt truly relaxed. Impulsively he kissed Ryan on the lips on his way past to the cupboards.

"What was that in aid of?" Ryan raised an eyebrow.

"Just because!"

"I think I like this _because_ , whatever it is … Now, stick the kettle on and we'll make a cuppa."

Stephen carried the tray through to the living room where the fire was on and Gran was sitting on the sofa leafing through a box of photographs.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Cheers, Gran!"

She winked at Stephen. "I thought you might like to see how angelic Tom was when he was little before he turned into this big tough soldier!"

Ryan sat on the footstool at Stephen's feet, leaning casually against his legs, as Gran passed photos over, providing a running commentary on them. They showed Ryan growing from a cute little todder with sticking-up blond hair and serious eyes to an intense teenager then to the familiar adult with the unreadable expression on his strong face.

At about 11pm Gran got up to make them cocoa. Stephen leaned over and kissed the top of Ryan's head. "Thank you," he said simply.

  


***  


"That's a double bed."

"Bloody hell, your observational skills astound me, Hart."

"We can't sleep together in your grandmother's house!"

"Why the hell not? She knows about us and she'd soon say if there was a problem, I assure you. And trust me, you don't want to sleep on her sofa. A park bench'd be more comfy."

"Your Gran's lovely. Will she adopt me?"

"I think she already has."

"At least you'll be spared my parents," said Stephen.

"Are they still alive?"

"Far as I know. I think I had a Christmas card from them three Christmases ago. They moved to New Zealand three weeks after my 16th birthday."

"Why didn't you go as well?"

"I wasn't invited."

"What?" Ryan was stunned into silence.

"First I knew was when I got home from school one day and there were boxes everywhere. They told me I had to pack all my stuff that night, or it'd be taken to a charity shop. Three weeks later they were gone."

"Christ! They hadn't said anything?"

"Nope."

"Why the hell not?"

Stephen shrugged. "It wouldn't have occurred to them. They'd made the plans, the plans suited them, what else was there to worry about?"

"A teenage boy, for a start …"

"Yeah, well …"

"Where did they send you?"

"Some very distant cousins, who pretty much left me to my own devices. They were decent people, but not the sort you got close to. Just so long as I helped on the farm at weekends, they didn't bother me."

"Have you seen your parents since they emigrated?"

Stephen shook his head. "I did go to New Zealand a couple of years ago on a field trip, but they were too busy to see me."

"Any brothers or sisters?" Ryan stroked his back gently, realising this was filling in more pieces of the complex jigsaw that was Stephen Hart.

"An older sister. She lives in London. Or at least she did a couple of years ago when she emailed me to say she was getting married."

"You ever see her?"

"Nope. We've got nothing in common. And no, I wasn't invited to the wedding – she emailed to tell me why it was a small and intimate gathering. I dunno why she even bothered telling me."

"How much older?" Ryan was starting to form an image of Stephen's family, and it wasn't an appealing one.

"Six years."

"She didn't go to New Zealand?"

"No. She'd just started work as a lawyer. And no, she didn't want to be bothered looking after her kid brother. And before you try any psychoanalysis or whatever they teach you at Sandhurst on me, yes, I'm sure it's partly why I'm so fucking screwed up and can't get close to people." Stephen rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one arm. "Listen, Tom, you have to promise me something."

"What?"

"When you dump me, do it quickly. I'm already too close to you, and I know it'll hurt so fucking much when it ends."

"I'm not going to dump you."

Long fingers stroked his hair gently. "You don't have to pretend. I love being with you, but I know it can never last. So I want you to promise that you won't string me along."

"I'm not promising that. We can make this work, I know we can …"

The close-to-tears smile that Ryan got in response almost broke his heart.

"Thank you for saying that, and I know you believe it, but you'll soon get fed up of me. So we'll have a good time 'til then, yeah?"

"Stephen, don't …"

His protest was silenced with a gentle kiss on the lips. So Ryan hugged him close, kissing his hair, his arms like an iron band around Stephen's chest.

***  


The silence was disconcerting. Stephen was used to the city, which never seemed to sleep. Here, though, every sound seemed magnified. Ryan had fallen asleep quickly, for which Stephen was eternally grateful. It had been a fabulous day, and he didn't want to spoil it with intense talk. He'd allowed himself to pretend that he _could_ be part of Ryan's life. And having Gran fussing over him and treating him like he was her grandson had been wonderful. For the first time in his life he felt he belonged somewhere. It struck him suddenly that he'd been hugged and kissed more this weekend than in the rest of his life put together.

On the way down in the car Ryan had casually mentioned that he was going to book those three weeks off in the summer so they could cycle round Ireland, and did the first three weeks in July suit Stephen? He'd nodded and said he'd put in for the leave when he got into work on Monday. Ryan had given him that rare smile that melted his bones, and said they should start planning a route at some stage, and decide if they wanted to camp or stay in B&Bs.

Stephen loved the west coast of Ireland – he'd been there several times by himself, and felt at one with the spectacular scenery. He knew Ryan would love it as well. Maybe they could also visit some of the other places Stephen had always wanted to go to. He longed to go to the Steppes, where they could sleep in a yurt, ride horses and watch the birds of prey swooping. And he'd always yearned to explore Australia by motorbike.

Ryan moaned in his sleep and pulled Stephen closer to him. Christ, having those strong arms around him was just perfect. Stephen had long ago trained himself not to need anyone. But Ryan had broken down all his defences. He'd assumed it would be a one-night stand, but the soldier had had other ideas. Ryan had never crowded Stephen, and he'd turned out to be such a generous lover. Sure, he was the archetypal Alpha Male in and out of bed, but his consideration and gruff kindness had totally disarmed Stephen, who was used to faceless and nameless one-night stands.

Stephen drowsed, his half-awake, half-asleep mind conjuring up that same dream of the two of them walking along a beach. He woke up suddenly, his heart beating double-time. Shit, this was absolutely fucking crazy. There was no way this sort of relationship was ever going to last. The moment Lester found out – and he would – Stephen would be pulled off the anomalies project. And Ryan could be sent anywhere in the world at a moment's notice, for months on end. But shit, it was going to hurt so much when it ended, as he was already far too attached to him. He had to end it now before he got in over his head. He'd had a taste of what a normal relationship could be like, and he owed Ryan everything for that.

Ryan was curled up with his back to him. Stephen eased himself out of bed, grabbing his clothes and rucksack from the chair. He dressed quickly in the bathroom and crept to the front door. The village wasn't far, and he had to hope there were buses in the back of beyond …

"Everything OK, darling?"

Oh shit. He wasn't sure he could lie to Gran. "Fine. Except there's an emergency at work and I need to get back. I didn't want to wake Tom …"

"I'm sorry you've got to go."

"So am I. Are there buses from the village?"

"Yes, every hour on the quarter past, and then the first train to London is 8.13am. But would you like me to run you into Pewsey?"

"It's fine, Mrs Ryan, honestly. I need the walk, and I don't want to put you out at all. Thank you for making me feel so welcome."

She cupped his chin in her tiny hands and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips. "Come back soon, darling. I'm so happy to have a new grandson."

***  


Stephen leaned his forehead against the window and watched as the bus jolted through chocolate box villages and down country lanes. He'd walked into the village, almost blinded by tears. And he'd so nearly broken down and told Gran the truth, hoping she'd take him in her arms and tell him it would all be all right.

Except it never would be, and he had to get on with his life. If he changed at Reading, he could be home by early afternoon. First thing to do was to email Cutter his resignation and point out he was owed lots of holiday, so he'd take that in lieu of notice. Then he'd start ringing around some of the charities. VSO might be glad of him, and he knew a couple of people who were on a rainforests project in South America. Maybe they could put in a word for him. He was crazy to have stayed in one place for so long. And letting his guard down was unforgivable.

***  


If he had been one of his lads, Ryan would have sent him off for extra training. Because, when he woke up the next morning, the other side of the bed was empty and Stephen's rucksack had gone. And this time there was no note.

He lay there for a minute or two, the wind taken out of his sails. And the thought crossed his mind that this relationship was never going to work. But Ryan had never given up on anything in his life, and wasn't going to start now. So he got dressed and went through into the kitchen. He wasn't surprised in the least to find his Gran already up.

"He left at 6.30. He said he needed to get back to work urgently."

Ryan glanced at the clock. It was 7.20am. Sleeping in that comfortable bed at his Gran's was the only time his in-built alarm clock failed him. "Did he get a cab?"

"No, he said he'd walk into the village and get the first bus. He said he wanted the fresh air."

And maybe wanted Ryan to catch up with him … "Is the first bus still 7.15?"

"Yes."

"And it still goes round all the villages?"

She nodded. "And the first train out is 8.13. He seems very troubled. I thought he was going to cry when I gave him a hug and told him to come again soon."

"Yeah, there's a lot going on for him. I'll see you later, Gran."

  


***  


Ryan parked the car in a side street near the station. About the time the bus was due in, he wandered over and sat on a nearby wall. The bus pulled in a couple of minutes late and Stephen was one of the last off. Ryan could see him talking to the driver, maybe asking for directions to the railway station.

Stephen slung his rucksack over his shoulder and started off towards the station. He looked like the cares of the world were on his shoulders. Ryan fell into step beside him. "You know, I'm going to have to start handcuffing you to the fucking bed," he said mildly.

"Tom, I'm sorry … I can't do this any more … Please, go home, and have a nice life with someone who deserves you … I'm resigning from CMU and the anomaly project so you and Cutter won't have to see me any more." He was on the verge of tears.

"Stephen, don't. Where would you go?"

"I'll be OK. I should know by now that the only person I can rely on is me."

"Don't you trust me?"  
   
"Yes, but it hurts too much."

"What does?"

"Knowing that I don't deserve you and that it'll never last …"

"Don't you want it to?"

"Of course I do, I want it more than anything! You know what, I lay awake most of last night, with you holding me, and I was picturing us together and all these places we could visit, and it was perfect and I was so happy …"

"Then why run away?"

Stephen shrugged, turning away from Ryan.

"Stephen, give us a chance to do those things. Yeah, shit happens, you know it does, but there's good stuff out there as well. What we're doing with the anomalies is dangerous, so we should have fun while we can. We don't know what's around the corner."

"I know …" He seemed fascinated by the loose cement in a wall, picking at it with his long fingers.

"Look, let's go and sit in the warm and talk. The train doesn't go for another 45 minutes, and the station's only down there."

He could see Stephen was wavering, but wasn't too surprised when he said: "Tom, please, let me go, this is just making it hurt more …"

"Won't you let me put my side of things first?"

"OK, I suppose …"

The café was run by a mate of Ryan's from school called Dan. At that time on a Saturday morning it was almost empty. Dan looked up from behind the counter as the door opened.

"Ryan! How you doing, mate?"

"I'm good, Dan. You?"

"Not so bad. You heard about Ed being killed skiing?"

"Yeah, Gran said. How's his missus doing?"

Dan shrugged. "Not great, but she's holding it together for the kids. And did your Gran tell you that Nick Lucas has got 12 months for fraud?"

"Not surprised. Nat and the kids OK?"

"Yeah, they're fine. She'll be sorry to have missed you. She's off at her mum's in Pompey for the weekend. This your bloke, then?"

Ryan tried to hide his surprise. "This is Stephen. Stephen, this is Dan Rivers, a friend of mine from school."

"You're the talk of the village, mate."

"How come?"

"Your mum was in Somerfield yesterday shouting the odds and telling anyone who'd listen that her macho soldier son wasn't going to give her grandchildren and that he preferred the lads."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "You know her, subtlety of a fucking JCB … Now, can you do us two teas and two all-day breakfasts, Dan?"

"No problem. And glad to see you're settling down at last. We've had a book running for ages on you being the last to succumb. Not that we were expecting you to parade a bloke around. No offence, mate …" The final comment was to Stephen.

"None taken," said Stephen, who was looking slightly bemused by the whole exchange.

"Yeah, well …" said Ryan, starting to wonder if the next step was an appearance on a TV chat show while people dissected his love life.

They sat in the corner by the window. Ryan noticed at once that Stephen couldn't look him in the eye, as he spun the sugar bowl round and round.

He said gently: "Stephen, this isn't me trying crap psychoanalysis on you, but I know it's hard for you to trust anyone after what your parents did to you. All I can do is keep telling you that I love you. I hope one day you'll be able to believe me."

Stephen's head shot up. "You love me?"

"Yeah." Ryan was embarrassed now, realising he'd laid his own soul bare. And he'd never told anyone he loved them. Well, except his Gran when he was five, and that went without saying.

"I … I love you too, but I'm frightened."

"So am I," admitted Ryan. "But I want this to work."

"So do I …" It was barely above a whisper, but Ryan didn't care.

He fumbled in his pocket and produced the box with the rings in. "Stephen, I'm not trying to crowd you or anything, but Gran gave me these last night. They were my dad's and my granddad's. She's been saving them 'til I met someone. And she's decided you're the one for me. So if you want to try telling her that you're not, go ahead and the best of luck …"

Stephen managed a half-smile as Ryan tipped the rings onto his palm. Stephen reached out and touched them with a gentle fingertip. "Tom, are you sure?"

"Yep." His father had been built along the same lines as Stephen, tall and slender. So he wasn't in the least surprised when the ring fitted Stephen's finger as if it had been made for him. Stephen took the other ring and slid it onto Ryan's finger. Again, it was a perfect fit. Ryan barely remembered his grandfather, but he'd seen plenty of photos, and knew they were the spitting image of each other.

"Thank you. They're beautiful." Ryan wasn't sure, but he thought he detected the faintest wobble in the quiet voice. And he knew he was smiling when Stephen entwined their fingers.

"We can do this, can't we?"

And Stephen nodded, looking him straight in the eye.


End file.
